


the billionaire's dilema

by dytabytes



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Canon-Typical Drug Use, Family Feels, Gen, Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21841303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dytabytes/pseuds/dytabytes
Summary: Having ludicrous amounts of personal wealth is all well and good until you can't buy a solution to your problems.
Relationships: Valerie Oberlin & Vera Oberlin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	the billionaire's dilema

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elemental](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elemental/gifts).



> Hi there, Elemental! I hope that you're having a wonderful holiday season! Hopefully, you'll also enjoy the fic that I've written!
> 
> Thanks also to Six for beta-reading!

The problem starts when the two of them are hanging out together after school when Valerie says, “Hey, have you heard about the new DIY trend?”

Vera doesn’t take much notice of the topic at first. She casually flips her hair and ponders, “Mm, you mean that thing where millennial monsters immerse themselves in ultimately pointless and overly expensive arts and crafts to try to gain a sense of accomplishment in their lives because they know that they’ll never truly reach the successes that they were promised by their parents’ generation?” 

“Uh, I guess?” Valerie takes a sip of her coffee, giving Vera space to continue. 

“It’s a waste of time, but if you toss a bag of rocks together with some dollar store glue, you’ve got yourself a DIY pebble art kit that you can sell at a huge markup.” Her scoff shows exactly how much respect Vera has for her customers’ collective intelligence. “Honestly, the amount of money that people will pay to feel better about their meaningless, materialistic lives would be laughable if it weren’t so profitable.”

“Heh. Nice.” Valerie holds her fist out for Vera to bump, and that should be it. But then, she says, “Still, some of that ‘handmade with love’ stuff is kind of cute when it’s genuine. That whole physical manifestation of care thing, you know?” 

Vera has a quiet little heart attack. Their birthdays are coming soon. Is this a subtle hint? 

See, Vera and Valerie don’t _do_ birthday gifts. After all, they both like the same thing: money. Every year, they exchange cheques. It's become more of a ritual than anything else, a competition to see who’s written the biggest number. The loser uses their net gain to buy Dad’s winter holiday gift. This is how it’s been for years, ever since Valerie started selling candy out of her cubby in grade school while Vera started blackmailing their principal for skimming money off the school field trip fund. Vera thought that they'd hit a comfortable pattern... but was her assumption incorrect?

Has she been disappointing Valerie by presenting her with cold, hard cash when she’s been wanting items of sentimental value?

Luckily, none of her dismay shows on Vera’s face, and the subject changes when Damien and Scott dash by, hollering and vaguely on fire, and Valerie’s ears perk up. 

“Oh right,” she says, attention diverted. “Did you hear about what the weird fear monster kid got up to in gym class?”

  


* * *

  


Vera comes to school the next day with a Plan. She’d spent all night on research, trying to figure out an appropriate gift to manufacture for her sister, one that would fully convey the love and respect that she holds for Valerie while still being simple enough that she can make it in time. Because it’s already December, and their birthdays are in less than a week. 

Unfortunately, luck has not been on her side.

“It’s horrendous,” she complains as she eats lunch with Miranda, having considered and discarded dozens of projects at this point. 

“Yes! I agree!” Miranda cries, eyes lit with righteous annoyance on her friend’s behalf. "Members of the bourgeoisie oughtn’t lower themselves to perform something as plebian as _manual labour_.” She shivers and gags to demonstrate her disgust.

Vera sighs as she sips at her whiskey. “Lowering myself isn’t a problem as much as figuring out what I can actually accomplish in such a limited time frame, Miri.”

She _had_ hunted Liam down and demanded that he instruct her on how to do the Thing with the Yarn. She’d been willing to put in the effort after all. But even though they’d struggled with hooks and needles for hours, Vera had only managed to create a multitude of tangles, uneven stitches, and generalized messes. The final blow came when, instead of completing a project, Vera had somehow managed to weave them a portal to the Interdimensional Prince’s realm. Between fighting off amorous royalty and settling the fires of revolution blazing amongst the lower class, they’d lost Vera’s lop-sided hat attempt. When they’d wrestled themselves back to their home dimension, she and Liam had mutually decided that they were all better off for having lost it and agreed to never speak of that particular evening ever again.

“Well, women of our means are capable of possessing more than one set of hands.” Miranda gestures dismissively at her retinue. “Having a serf do the making for you would produce a gift that is 'handmade', without having to use your own.”

It’s an attractive solution, to be sure, but--

“No,” Vera sighs. “No, I’m afraid the point of the exercise is to demonstrate affection through self-sacrifice. I’m going to have to do this myself.”

Dejected, she rubs at the ache between her eyebrows. “I just have to find a project that doesn’t require so much _fiddling_.”

“Heeeeeey, what’s this I hear about fiddling? Because you know I’m always down for a li’l bit of that, if you know what I mean.”

Polly slings her arms over Vera and Miranda’s shoulders, grin wide and eyes slightly glassy in a way that might be a sign that she’s sleep-deprived, or that she’s really high, or both. It’s hard to tell with Polly.

“Vera’s sister requested a _’DIY’_ gift for her birthday,” Miranda says, enunciating each letter of the acronym with exaggerated care, in order to show exactly how much the concept boggles her. “It’s perplexing! How does one ‘hand make’ a gift while avoiding the _embarrassment_ of personally emulating the working class?”

“Well girl, I think I know a way to solve your problem!” Polly slides around Vera to throw herself into the seat on her other side. “Two words: Designer. Drugs.”

“Ah!” Miranda claps her hands in delight. “Yes, everything becomes acceptably upper crust when it’s _designer_!”

“While I enjoy a good party, Polly, I don’t think that inebriation is going to solve my problems.” Vera rolls her eyes, because sometimes Polly’s antics are amusing, but she does not have time for this right now.

“Nah, I mean, escaping your problems through chemistry is great, but I meant more Breaking Bad than Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle. Cooking’s the original handmade project, right?”

“That…” Vera pauses halfway through her initial instinctive denial. “Is not the worst idea.” 

And this is why, for all her faults, Vera still associates with Polly. The girl acts like she has a head full of air, but there’s a brilliant intellect hidden under all that hair.

“Right?” Polly flashes a peace sign, giggling, then jumps out of her chair. “Okay girls, let’s get going! I’ve got everything set up already in a cool out-of-the-way location! Time to cook up some good shit!”

  


* * *

  


Vera Oberlin is known for being fearless, brave, unshakeable, and normally she is. Right now though, she’s shaking.

It’s stupid. She’s come home for a simple hangout with her sister. They’re doing take-out and a cheesy movie in their pyjamas. There’s nothing scary here at all… except for fear of disappointing one of her dearest relatives on her birthday.

Ugh.

It’s why, even though Valerie greets her with an “Oh hey, did you hear about how the school’s bringing in portable toilets? Rumor has it someone completely exploded the bathrooms--” Vera cuts her off by shoving her present at her. 

It’s not impressive in and of itself, just a small gift bag approximately the size of two fists (or a really nice lump of cocaine), but it’s definitely different from usual. Valerie’s curiosity is immediately set alight. 

“Okay, give it here! I wanna seeeeeee it!” She whines, exaggerating her lilting singsong to try to win Vera over with cuteness. 

It works, less because Vera is weak to kitten eyes and more just because she wants to rip this band-aid off as fast as possible.

“As a disclaimer, I did my best, but… read the card first.”

She looks away as she holds the bag out to Valerie, trying to hide her trepidation while still being honest. 

“Wow!”

Vera barely manages to hide her flinch when she sees her sister open the card that was in the bag and start to read it. 

“... I know it’s not traditionally do-it-yourself, but I did make this with my own two hands-- Aw, Vee!”

Valerie drops the card and its enclosed cheque so that she can fling herself across the couch to give her sister a hug. 

“I can’t believe that one little conversation threw you!”

“So you don’t hate it?”

“What? No, it’s money! I love it!” Valerie gives Vera another squeeze.

“Well. Good.” Vera nods, then can’t help but ask, “You’re sure?”

“Vee, you’re the smartest girl around, and you’re the best sister ever, but sometimes you look so deep into the subtext that you miss the point. Sometimes random thoughts are just random thoughts, not subtle hints.”

Valerie giggles. Maybe she could fake a smile, but she can’t fake the purring rumbling in her chest when she laughs at her sister. That’s what really makes Vera finally let herself relax into the hug and hug back. 

“Alright, then.”

“You’re so silly sometimes!”

She startles a little when Valerie loudly kisses the side of her head, sliding out of the hug with a huff.

“Love makes fools of us all.”

Valerie’s eyes are soft as she slings an arm around Vera’s shoulders, leaning over to rest her head against her sister’s.

“Yeah, love you too, sis.”

**Author's Note:**

> "So about that explosion in the bathrooms...?"
> 
> "Let's just say that there were already a million reasons why _this_ woman's place is not the kitchen... but now there's one more."
> 
> "Gotcha."


End file.
